


The Martyr Card

by seaaweedbrain



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, What would happen if Nathan found Neil instead of Lola
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaaweedbrain/pseuds/seaaweedbrain
Summary: There, behind Coach Wymack, stood a wanted criminal, Butcher of Baltimore, and most notably, Neil’s father.“Team,” Wymack greeted. “I'd like to introduce you to Nathan Wesninski.”OrWhat would have happened if Nathan had found Neil instead of Lola?
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 16
Kudos: 408
Collections: Andreil





	The Martyr Card

Neil was over the moon.

By the scrape of their necks, the team had secured a win against the Binghamton Bearcats. It was strange to think that only one game stood between the Palmetto State Foxes and semifinals. The thought sent goosebumps across Neil’s bare arms as he washed his aching body. The win would be an easy feat - with Andrew’s skills working in their favour and the team’s newfound unity, they were unstoppable.

In the Bearcats’ locker room, Neil exited his shower stall and got dressed. Momentarily, he thought of Andrew. He'd been incredible on the court, delivering his best plays and working the game in the foxes’ favour. He thought of his promise to Andrew and wondered what the goalkeeper would want in return for his efforts that day.

" _A_ _nything_ ," Neil had promised, and so Andrew had given it his all. It had been that easy.

He packed his gear away and slung his bag over his shoulder. A security officer stood at the end of the hall, waiting outside the room where the foxes were celebrating their win.

“Neil!” Nicky greeted enthusiastically as Neil entered the room.

Matt moved to clap Neil on the back.

“We did it, man,” Matt grinned.

Neil gave him a congratulatory high-five and crossed the room to where Andrew sat at the back.

“Thanks to Andrew!” Nicky said. “He _killed_ it.”

Andrew barely spared the team a glance, his eyes trained on the door. In his line of sight, Wymack appeared at the doorway, and directly behind him followed a man.

Neil felt the air get knocked from his lungs.

There, behind Coach Wymack, stood a wanted criminal, Butcher of Baltimore, and most notably, Neil’s father.

“Team,” Wymack greeted. “I'd like to introduce you to Nathan Wesninski.”

In the corner of Neil’s eye, he caught Allison wiggling her eyebrows in Renee’s direction, tongue in cheek. He could feel Andrew’s stare boring into him. It had been hard to train himself to not see his father’s face whenever he looked in the mirror. Now, Neil felt that all that practice had been useless. Looking at Nathan was like looking at an older, rugged version of himself. It had been easy for Andrew to make the connection.

 _Run_ , Neil’s body screamed. _Run run run run run._

His heart beat at a mile a minute. He was trapped. There was no way out of this, no disguise he could create or ID to fake his name. This was the end of his life. It was game over.

“After today’s game, Mr Wesninski has decided to sponsor our team,” Wymack continued.

Kevin was probably having a panic attack somewhere. Neil couldn't bring himself to care about anything other than the roaring sound of his heartbeat in his ears. If he zoned in any further, he would notice the shake of his hands and the stiffening of his body in distress. He tried to even his breathing. Once again, Neil Josten was the rabbit. He had nowhere to run.

“Your play today was incredible,” Nathan spoke. Neil couldn't bring himself to look at his face. He couldn't bring himself to do anything at all.

“I've made quite the profit in my line of work, and I feel that it would be put to good use as an investment in this team. Just think - a tour bus with your faces on it. Billboards. Better promotional opportunities. More equipment. All of your trips would become expense-free. This is the kind of sponsorship that ensures that you will never be known as the underdogs again.”

The team exchanged looks. The Palmetto State Foxes were a team of people that had been cheated by life. They were used to false promises.

“That sounds… amazing,” Allison said. “But why us? No offense to Coach, but we’re not exactly the créme de la créme of the exy food chain right now.”

Nathan smiled in a business-like manner, his expression resembling that of a hungry shark’s.

“Well, considering my ties to this group, I felt it to be in my best interest to ensure your success.”

Dan furrowed her brows. “Ties?”

Nathan’s gaze zeroed in on Neil, and he felt his world shatter around him.

“Why, my son, of course. He plays for this team.”

Nicky’s jaw dropped. “Neil is your _son_?”

“But that's impossible,” Dan said. “Neil, you told us your dad died.” Aaron narrowed his eyes, presumably calculating which of his theories about Neil had been correct.

Neil opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He was nauseated.

“That's on me, I'm afraid,” Nathan cut in. “We haven't spoken in years. After his mother passed, I became rather… _detached,_ as a parent. I don't blame him for running away and telling everyone that I died.”

“But,” he continued, “that is why I am here now. To make things right with my son, starting with the unconditional support of his career.”

He spread his arms wide, and Neil felt bile rise in his throat. His worst nightmare was coming true before his very eyes. He had always known that he would die at the hands of his father, but he had never wanted to drag the foxes into it. He wondered if Nathan would kill him here, with everyone watching, or torture him privately. Surely, Nathan wouldn't be able to get away with hurting so many people in the public eye. Neil decided that he shouldn't pretend to know his father’s intentions.

“I'm ready to be the father that you need,” he said. “Come here, Nathaniel.”

“Get out,” Andrew said.

The team’s eyes were set on Neil, trying to figure out what was going on. Neil could only imagine Andrew’s feeling of betrayal. Andrew had protected him, and Neil had lied right to his face.

“I'm speaking to my son.”

“ _Get out_."

“Andrew,” Neil managed. He finally met Andrew’s gaze. It was hard, angry. But not at him. Neil knew, now, that he would never be subjected to Andrew’s bottomless rage.

Neil shook his head slightly. _I need you to trust me_.

Andrew’s eyes were accusing. _How am I supposed to trust a liar?_

With what remained of his courage, Neil crossed the room to his father, his breath shaking as each step brought him closer to his death.

Death awaited him, smiling, arms stretched wide.

“My son,” he said, and Neil knew that only he could hear the anger and shame in his voice. Nathaniel stiffened as Nathan’s arms enveloped him in a crushing embrace. “You are foolish for hiding in such plain sight,” he whispered in Nathaniel’s ear. “And for that, as well as your other failures, your death will be slow and excruciatingly painful.”

Spots danced in Nathaniel’s vision as his father pulled away. Nathan kept his hands gripped fiercely onto his son’s arms, but his expression was unnaturally stretched into one of caring nature.

“I'd like Nathaniel to drive back to Palmetto with me,” he announced. “It will give us a chance to discuss our past, as well as our future together. I promise I'll get him back to you in one piece.”

Nathaniel thought of the way his father would cut him apart, of whether he'd start with the arms or punish him with the legs first. _So you'll never run again,_ he could hear his father saying.

“Neil,” Wymack said, snapping Nathaniel out of his gruesome thoughts. Nathaniel’s vision refocused onto his coach. “I asked you if I could speak to you alone.”

Wymack knew - to some extent - that Nathaniel’s childhood had been traumatising. He knew better than to leave him with his father.

“No, Coach,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head. “It's okay - I want to go.”

He knew that the moment he stepped out that room, one of Nathan’s men would come out of hiding and hurt his team members. Their safety was the one thing that Nathaniel would never risk.

Wymack remained unconvinced.

“No,” he argued, his gaze fixated on Nathan. “I know what kind of man you are. Neil stays with us.”

For the first time, Nathaniel noticed Kevin on the sofa. His eyes were wide, panicking - Nathan’s presence had certainly stirred unwelcome thoughts of his time with the Moriyamas.

It was abundantly clear that it was only he and Kevin that truly knew what kind of man Nathan Wesninski was.

“You're going to stop me from seeing my son?” Nathan asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I think it's best that you leave,” Wymack replied, and Nathaniel knew that everything was about to be ruined. Nathan only smiled.

“Neil,” Matt said to Nathaniel, “is this guy going to be a problem?”

Nathaniel’s breath hitched.

“Please,” he lowered his voice so that only Nathan could hear. “They don't know anything. Let them go.”

Nathan pressed a hand firmly onto Nathaniel’s shoulder, his grip tight and unmoving.

“You are in no place to be asking for favours, Nathaniel,” he grumbled. “Consider this a final wish.”

Nathaniel knew that the only reason Nathan had to let his friends go was that it was easier to dispose of one body than ten. People would notice if Kevin Day went missing - no one would care if Nathaniel did.

“Guys, I'm fine,” Nathaniel lied. “Seriously. I just need ten minutes with him, that's all.”

“No way,” Allison argued. “We are not leaving you alone with that creepazoid.”

“It's just ten minutes.”

Wymack furrowed his brows. “And you'll meet us on the bus?”

Nathaniel nodded solemnly. Ten minutes was more than enough time for his father to do enough damage to Nathaniel’s body that would ensure his cooperation. He curled his hands inward, and then flexed them. He wiggled his toes in his shoes, memorising the feel of them against the hard rubber. He mapped out his body in his head, acquainting himself with the joints in his arms and the buckle of his knees. He was saying goodbye.

“No,” Andrew said. His stance was nonchalant, but by now Nathaniel had learned to see past his mask. It gave way in the slight furrow of his brow, the downward quirk of his lip.

“Andrew.”

“No.”

Nathaniel stepped in front of Andrew. The goalkeeper’s stance didn't shift in the slightest, and he kept his gaze pinned on Nathaniel’s father.

Nathaniel moved his hands to hover an inch or two away from Andrew’s cheeks. His eyes slowly shifted from the Butcher to Nathaniel’s blue stare.

“I'm not leaving you here with him,” Andrew stated in German. Nathan rose his brows.

“Could you take my kit to the bus?” Nathaniel asked in English. He hoped that Andrew would understand the double meaning. _I'm not coming back._ _There's nothing you can do._ Andrew knew as well as anybody that Nathaniel would never part with his gear willingly, nor would he entrust it with anyone else.

Andrew said nothing, just gave Nathaniel one significant look and then slung the duffel over his shoulder. He shouldered his way past the team through the door, and the group begrudgingly followed suit. Wymack was the last to leave.

“Ten minutes,” he reiterated, lifting his hands up in front of him. And then he was gone, leaving Nathaniel alone with his father. Nathan’s large hand bulldozed into Nathaniel’s cheek, sending him tumbling backward. He clutched his cheek fiercely, the pain stinging against his skin. Nathan pressed a foot into Nathaniel’s stomach, burying the heel of his boot into his hoodie.

“ _W_ _here is she?_ ” Nathan growled.

“Dead,” Nathaniel managed in staggered breaths. “Mom died at the California border. You killed her.”

Nathan’s second blow was expected, but that didn't lessen the excruciating pain that sprawled through Nathaniel’s eye. Nathan had raised his fist for the third when the door banged behind them.

“What was that?” Nathan asked, kicking Nathaniel’s body away from him. He made for the door, swinging it open to reveal his bodyguard, slumped over and bloodied. Behind him stood Andrew, knife in hand. In a split second, Nathan had secured a gun from the inside of his jacket, and had it pointed at the fiery blonde. Nathaniel moved quickly, pain searing through his ribs as he blocked Andrew from being hit. Momentarily, he thought that the bullet had missed him, but then noticed the deep red seeping from his sleeve. He slumped against a wall, clutching the wound in his hand. The Butcher of Baltimore moved to reload his gun, but Andrew was quicker, and the edge of his blade sunk into the man’s stomach. Nathan Wesninski staggered backward and dropped the heel of his gun in shock. It clattered on the floor, and Andrew sweeped it up in one fluid motion. Three _bangs_ resounded against the walls, forming a perfect triangle in Nathan’s skull. His eyes rolled backward and he collapsed on the ground. Nathan was dead.

And Nathaniel. Couldn't. Breathe.

He felt Andrew lift him up by the waist, felt his sturdy arms carry him to the parking lot. He could hear the foxes’ shocked voices echoing around him, questions of concern flying around.

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew growled. “Call 911.”

He felt the paramedics lift him into the stretcher, heard Andrew arguing with the doctors, telling them to leave him the hell alone and let him get in the damn ambulance. He felt Andrew’s grip on his hand, cold and unmoving, but only really came to nearly four hours later, in a hospital bed.

“Hey,” Neil rasped.

“Hey,” Andrew replied.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 1AM.”

“And you've been here this whole time?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “What did I tell you about playing the martyr card?”

The goalkeeper grimaced as the rest of the foxes flooded in. They swarmed Neil, asking if he was okay, wanting to know what had happened to Nathan.

“I guess I should tell you guys the truth,” Neil sighed, eyeing Andrew significantly.

“My name is Nathaniel Wesninski, and my father is dead.”

  
  



End file.
